


Depraved.

by RobertColfer



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Background Dantana, Complicated Relationships, Dom/sub, Dominatrix Santana, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Switch Kurt, klaine endgame, not Brittany or Brittana friendly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobertColfer/pseuds/RobertColfer
Summary: After his fathers death, Kurt drops everything to become a care giver to his mourning step-mother, essentially putting his life on hold. When Santana Lopez comes back into his life, she decides it's time to shake up his routine for his own good - whether he likes it or not. He'll thank her for it, right?
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Kurt Hummel/Santana Lopez
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Tweedle Tea and Crumpts.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is loosely based off the Netflix series "Bonding". If you've seen the show, you'll already get the gist of the basic plot that carries throughout the fic itself. Not everything that happens in the show will happen in this fic, and not everything in the fic reflects back on the show as a whole.

"Close up shop! Draw the curtains, turn off the lights, lock the doors; we aren't accepting anymore customers today!" Kurt calls out from behind the counter, feeling his energy give out where he slouches heavily against it. There's a joyous sound of praise as his fellow co-workers, Frenchie and Jasper, and the accompanying sound of locks being clicked and the roll of blinds being pulled.   
  


Today had been yet another successful day at the Tweedle Tea Shop, which wasn't all that surprising considering it was the weekend in the middle of one of the highest tourist spots in all of Seattle. Coaxing smells of warm crumpets just coming out of the oven, and fragrant herbs and spices of varied teas kept the tea and crumpet shop very busy.  
  


It hadn't been the original plan for what Kurt saw for his life. Seattle, Washington itself was never a contender for his future.  
  


All throughout high school, Kurt knew he belonged in New York. It was the city of dreams, where everything was, where all the happenings were going down, and where his future was awaiting as a light at the end of a very long and albeit depressing tunnel of high school living. A living of constant bullying and hiding himself away until he could reach out and touch the light. Claim it as his own. Leave Ohio in the past where it belonged.   
  


He had gotten into Parsons for college immediately.  
  


He secured a job at Vogue after being an intern for a few weeks. 

He even met an older guy at a coffee shop, Adam, who became his first official boyfriend. It had that new feeling that Kurt treasured, wanting to experience all that New York could give to him.  
  


Things had been looking perfect. He was happy. This was how things were supposed to be.  
  


Funny thing about life. It always threw a curveball to shake things up.  
  


First, his step-brother, Finn, had been called into active duty while in the army where he lost his life.  
  


A year later, a second heart-attack left Burt Hummel with a weakened heart, requiring a transplant if he had hoped to make it. The specialist suggesting a surgeon up in Washington state if they wanted a better fighting chance, as Ohio could only offer so much. A waiting list wasn't an option, and it had led to Kurt moving his parents up to the Pacific Northwest over the summer.  
  


Things had gone well enough. Nothing going wrong during the transplantation and Burt seemingly regaining strength as time passed for another year. It had been a blow when his body began to shut down unexpectedly, and it was only a matter of weeks before they lost Burt too.  
  


Carole had been left to her own devices as a grieving widow (yet again) and still a mother who had lost a part of her soul.   
  


Kurt hadn't left it up for discussion. He made Seattle his new home, not wanting to move his step-mother again and not wishing to leave her by herself. They were all that remained of the Hudson-Hummel clan, and Kurt was determined to not leave her to fend for herself. Getting a full-time job at the cozy tea shop in downtown Seattle, which had been going smoothly now for the last eight months. With Carole being an RN, they were able to afford their townhouse comfortably.  
  


This was his home now. For as long as Carole needed him. He had lost enough of his family as it was; he didn't need to add another name to the list.  
  


"Earth to Kurt?" Black-manicured nails snap in front of his nose, bringing him back to reality. "You weren't even listening to a thing I said, have you?" His co-worker asks, dark hair combed over to one side of her face as she tilts her head at him. He really hates when she tries to read him, it makes him squeamish and on display from behind glass.  
  


"Can't say that I was." Kurt smiles, apologetic. Sometimes he still couldn't get his head around the fact that he worked here. Such a different pace then back in New York. It was still a bustle of city life, for sure, but definitely different.  
  


"You've been zoning out a lot again. It's starting to become worrisome." She pats at his shoulder, sympathetic. "Do you need another cleansing of your aura?" Already she's straightening her back, hands outstretched towards him for him to take.  
  


"Uh, thanks, Frenchie. But I'm good." He ignores her huff, watching her hands drop to the counter.  
  


"So you want to feel lousy?" She, Frenchie, asks, tapping her fingers against the counter, mouth twisted with contempt.  
  


"Leave the guy alone, Ranchero! You know he doesn't believe in anything spiritual." His other co-worker, Jasper, speaks up, passing them both to get to the back with his tub of dirty dishes. "Sometimes people zone, it's normal. You know what's not normal? Leaving our dishes to collect mold back here. So come help me wash these!"  
  


She scoffs, rolling her eyes at Kurt before following Jasper's lead. He hears them bickering back in the kitchen about soul cleansing - a topic he had heard many a time by now.  
  


Kurt knows they mean well. They were both empathetic, even if they were polar opposites of each other. Frenchie (or Francine according to her name tag) held the aesthetic of cottage witch girl, with her dark nail polish and always adorning some kind of dark aesthetically pleasing outfit; offering to cleanse your house of spirits and giving crystals as presents. Meanwhile, Jasper was a redhead who was loud and always the fun of the party. "Redheads didn't have souls, right? Might as well party hard!" He had been the first to offer Kurt something that gave off an odor that Kurt had smelled driving between work and home. Never again. 

He was used to their antics by now. It came with the territory of work friends that you spent half your time during the week with.  
  


Food packed away, the entire shop was cleaned to make it easier on whoever was opening at 7 am the next morning, and Kurt bid the other two goodbye, both of them still bickering like an old married couple, leaving him alone in the shop. He had to count the money in the register and lock up, but it didn't take as long now that he had his routine.  
  


Thirty minutes in he hears a gentle tapping against the window as he's returning the drawer to the till. It's insistent enough to catch his attention, expecting to find some older person thinking they were still open. It wouldn't be the first time. He could only post so many signs on the door that they closed at five before it felt like overkill.  
  


It wasn't an older person, however. 

"Santana?"  
  


She's grinning at him from the other side of the glass, still tapping on it with her long nails. He decides he can make this one exception, as he hadn't seen her in years, not since her wedding to Brittany. And that was only a pity invite on his part, as he had been on the cheerio team since Sophomore year which hadn't helped with the constant harassment.  
  


"Lady Hummel!" She greets as he opens the door for her. "I knew I would find your sorry ass here."  
  


Years later, and he still he loathes that name. He doesn't hide the grimace before accepting the quick hug.  
  


"Just finishing up in closing, but hello to you too." He locks the door behind them again, and returns to what he had been doing prior to her scattered knocking technique. "What are you doing here of all places? I thought you were going to make a name for yourself in New York just like the rest of us."  
  


She laughs. Kurt thinks it sounds more bitter than genuine, though her long dark hair hides her face for the most part as she starts peering into the display cases. There may not have been food in them anymore, but the little signs still pasted on the glass were still giving her an idea.   
  


"Believe me, I did. And I'm doing well for myself. I get to travel wherever I am needed, or feel most comfortable. New York grew boring for yours truly, believe it or not, so I'm settling in here for a while until it too grows dull for my taste."   
  


It feels as if there's some underlining message with that. He doesn't push. Biting onto hooks wasn't exactly his thing. If she wanted to talk about it, she would.  
  


"Well, I've lived here for about ten months myself, if you want a tour sometime?" He may not know this city like the back of his hand, but at least he was positive he wouldn't get them lost either. She nods in agreement, turning away from the glass display case and tosses her hair over her shoulder. 

"Sounds like a date to me."  
  


Adding the last few touch-ups, they're leaving the shop through the back entrance instead ten minutes later. Kurt giving the door a few testing tugs to ensure its security, then takes the lead down the steps and back out into the dusk air.  
  


They fall into light conversation back and forth. Her mostly asking him questions, regarding how long he planned to stay in Seattle, about Carole, and of course bringing up his dating life. It wasn't her business, he knew that, but he still found himself sharing that the few dates he did manage to get never lasted longer than a fling and he was just focusing on himself and Carole right now. 

"Once things settle, I am positive there will be guys still around to get my hook into." He reasons, accepting the pair of coffee cups from the barista, turning towards Santana to hand her what she ordered. He doesn't miss the way she winks at the worker. Same ol' Santana, never changed for anyone.  
  


"I knew you lived a sad life, but I didn't know it was this depressing." She says as they find a table, giving her the chance to shed her jacket, revealing the leather corset outfit underneath. It was very her, Kurt mentally notes, watching her sit across from him. The way the dark fabric hugged her torso, outlining her shoulders with the additional straps that pulled an hourglass figure out of her. It had a bite of intimidation that fit her personality well. "Stop drooling like a dog in heat and pass me the sugar." She's saying without looking up at him, popping the lid of her cup off.  
  


Kurt averts his gaze, face warm at the insinuation, pushing the sugar container in her direction. "It isn't that bad. Just very busy with work and finishing up school. It's not forever."  
  


"So you say now. But soon enough, you'll be making excuses as to why you can't do something you really want to enjoy all because you've entered into a routine. God forbid you ruin that routine."  
  


His brows furrow stubbornly, knowing deep down she was right. Routines are what kept him going, but they also made him stuck in a loop. A loop that became background noise that he now accepted as everyday life. "Not all of us are lucky enough to live life on the fly. Some of us have responsibilities." He hopes he doesn't sound too bitter, fingers picking idly at the coffee cups seam.  
  


"Responsibilities shouldn't keep you from letting life pass you by, Hummel."  
  


"Life isn't passing me by. I go out over the weekends."  
  


"With who?"  
  


"Carole most days."  
  


"And how long have you two been fucking?"  
  


"Santana!" Kurt's grateful he swallowed his drink, not knowing why he was even surprised by her bluntness to begin with. 

She shrugs, taking a drink and smacking her lips together. "I said what I said. Carole's nice and all, but she isn't exactly your type. You're going to regret it down the line if you don't take life by the horns for yourself. Erectile dysfunction is creeping closer to your itty man bits the more you don't use it."  
  


Kurt stares hard at his coffee cup, not wanting to admit that she does make a good point. No matter how crude and plain gross it was.  
  


A lot of the reason he is doing this was because of guilt. He wasn't there when Finn died, he didn't get to support either of his parents through it like he had wanted, being so wrapped up in his own life in New York. His dad was gone now, and what was he suppose to do? Let her fend for herself? He couldn't do that. They only had each other now. These moments were to be cherished, remembered, and made important before all that remained was one remaining contender. 

"I'm not going to abandon her, Santana. She needs the company, and support." So do I, his silent addition whispers in his head.  
  


"I didn't say you had to do that. But I am saying, don't let your life surround caring about her and her alone. You got a few years to go before you look like a sad and droopy old guy whose bald patch is only attracting nursing home patients." She nudges Kurt's foot under the table with her own, that half-smirk giving him mixed feelings from her insulting words and the undertone of what he could only think of as encouragement.  
  


"Thanks."  
  


"Don't mention it." She takes another sip of her coffee and then inhales deeply. "Now that we got that boring sapfest out of the way; I could use your help with something."  
  


"I already paid for the coffee."  
  


She fixes him with a look, unamused, pressing on as if he hadn't said anything. 

"I have a job for you. It'll only take you away from changing Carole's diapers three nights a week, for three to five hours at the most. It pays far better than your hippy-feelings and tea shop at any rate, so you've got nothing to lose."

"This feels like a sales pitch." It's an honest admission from his take. It was brought up out of the blue, and she clearly had this bubbling in the back of her mind this entire interaction. Part of him is wondering if he should've seen this coming from a mile away - of course she would only hunt him down because she wanted something from. Looking him up specifically was already a large flag of caution, waving at him loudly from the sidelines.  
  


The other part knew he'd feel stupid if he turned down this opportunity, whatever it was. It meant more money in the end, for himself and for Carole. Those shoes he saw online the other day, and fabric he wanted to get that was out of budget could be the final touches on an unfinished product.  
  


However, he isn't completely naive. This is definitely a manipulation tactic on her part. She knew she had him backed into a corner where he couldn't refuse. Not yet. 

"Do I get to know further details?" He asks at last, after studying her face for any signs of guilt. She was too guarded to read; until she smirks at the question. He was caught in her trap. 

"I need to keep some mystery, don't I? No one likes a person who puts out on the first date."  
  


Kurt's gut twists, pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth.   
  


"I am having a hard time trusting you."   
  


She removes a business card from somewhere in her bodice, sliding it across the table towards him. He can only wonder where exactly that was hidden this whole time, and if he dares touch it.

"Good. I expect to see you at that address, Friday evening at eight. If you get lost or lose your nerve, text me." She collects her jacket and stands, walking around the table to lean in closer to his ear. "Don't be late, I don't like to be kept waiting for too long." And then she's gone, leaving him sitting alone at their table. 

What the hell was she up to?


	2. Madam Snixx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His curiosity gets the better or Kurt and he visits the address on the card left to him by Santana.

Come Friday, Kurt steps off the bus, following his phone's map to the designated area printed on this mysterious card. 

Santana was texting him now and again, but everything remained cryptic. 

From Santana:   
I hope you're ready to make bank, Hummel!   
This is going to be so much fun.  
I have your outfit ready and waiting. I had to guess on your size, but you still looked sickly when I saw you so.   
Knock three times rapidly then two more times nice and slow. 

To Santana:   
What does that even mean?! You're not making any sense. 

From Santana:   
You'll see. ;)

Not helpful. 

His phone buzzes, alerting his arrival at said spot and he stops. 

A blank brick wall is opposite him, with one metal door. No windows were seen, blacked out or otherwise. The entire block was just this wall, faint graffiti writing on one end of mystic numbers that confirmed this was the place. 

To Santana:   
There's literally nothing here.   
What kind of game is this? 

From Santana:   
Knock on the door, genius.   
If a burly guy opens it, tell him Madam Snixx sent you. 

To Santana:   
Madam Snixx?

From Santana:   
Just do it. 

Again, not helpful. 

Taking a breath, he stows his phone away and steps towards the door. It's daunting. Just a lone heavy metal door, looming in a dark alleyway. Every alarm bell was ringing in his head, warning him to turn tail and leave. 

This was stupid. Why had he agreed to do this? Okay, technically he didn't agree verbally. But now that he was here, he couldn't turn back. 

Another breath. 

He knocks. Three times rapidly in succession. Twice more slow and drawn. 

Nothing happens. The door remains closed to him. Did he do it wrong? Was this Santana's idea of a cruel joke? She did know that Seattle was just as bad with its crime rates as New York was, right? Every immediate thought of his failure plagues him. Maybe this was the wrong door, the map could've been off a few blocks. There wasn't much to go on, but he had tried to come early on purpose to avoid this. 

About to reach for his phone again to angrily give her a piece of his mind, the door swings open then. A large man in a tight black v-neck and a leather choker is standing there in the entryway, glowering down at him. He was huge in every way. Kurt wasn't exactly short, but he felt so minuscule in comparison. 

"State your business." He gruffly demands. Kurt thinks his legs may give out. 

"Madam Snixx sent for me." 

They stare at each other. Kurt isn't sure if he should breathe, afraid it might be the wrong way to do it and piss this guy off. 

"Oh! Of course!" The glowering is gone, replaced by a bright smile. All traces of intimidation gone. He steps back, waving Kurt inside. "Come on in, Sir!"

That took a quick turn for sure. How was one suppose to react to a big guy going from terrifying pit bull to hyperactive Pomeranian the next. 

"Thanks." I think. 

Stepping inside quickly, Kurt hears the heavy door shut and lock behind them - he's trapped now. No where to go. Choker guy steps back around, bowing his head reverently and gestures politely to Kurt's outfit - jacket specific. 

"Would you like me to take that for you, Sir?" 

Instinctively, Kurt clutches at the item of clothing. It wasn't cheap. He did t know this guy, let alone anyone in this odd building, except for Santana (who he still hadn't seen yet, so that in itself was suspicious). At the same time, he didn't want to be rude. It could be a club, some place that just had special regulations he wasn't used to. Perhaps it was customary to leave your jacket here upon entering. 

After some deliberation, Kurt removes his jacket and hands it over; only after securing his valuables in his pants pockets. 

"If you'll follow me, Sir." 

Kurt follows the other man's lead, walking stiffly through a curtain of beads and down a hallway lit only by red and violet lighting. Like some odd devilish runway. 

"Have you played with Madam Snixx before tonight, Sir?" His guide asks. Kurt doesn't know what that even means. He's too scared to ask. 

"I haven't seen her in a few years, actually. She just mentioned that she needed my help, so here I am." It sounds ridiculous as he admits it aloud, and he folds his arms now self-conscious. The other man doesn't seem put off or judgmental as he grins over at Kurt. 

"You've known her for a while then? You're so lucky. I only just met her this morning. Changed my life." 

Kurt's confusion grows. The countless doors they pass don't help with his confusion. Nor does stopping at the end of the hall, where the man opens the one on the right and directs Kurt inside. Light transitioning to something more warm.

Santana is sitting against a desk, hair braided and out of her face. She is stunningly intimidating in such dim lighting, dressed in latex leggings and a red corset that matched her boots and gloves. She smiles at him, face lighting up. 

"Thank you, Jason." She addresses the man with the choker who bows his head, giddy to be addressed. "That'll be all." 

They're left alone. The door clicking shut behind them. 

"What the hell, Santana." Kurt hisses in a hushed voice, arms crossing more tightly across his chest. "What is this place? Why did you bring me here?"

"It's a play dungeon, genius. Have you never seen Fifty Shades of Gray?" 

"Of course I haven't. I tried reading the books, but couldn't get past the first couple of chapters—it's just abuse camouflaged behind sex-like words." 

Santana smirks at him, hopping off the desk and approaching. "Good. Then you know what BDSM play actually is. I was afraid you'd be too vanilla." She takes a hanger off the back of her door and thrusts it into his arms. 

"I don't—vanilla? What does that eve—what is this?" 

"Put it on, you fragile figurine. If you're going to be my helper, you need to look hot, not like a walking mannequin."

It's a mesh top, leather pants and jacket with a harness for his upper half. 

Alarm bells are ringing. He didn't consent to doing this. There was no way he could've predicted this would be the so-called job to 'make bank' on. 

"Hold on," Kurt directs back at Santana who is sitting behind the desk this time, picking up a crop and toying with the end. "What exactly am I helping you with? I don't want to have sex with perfect strangers for the sake of kink, Santana." 

Her dark eyes roll over in his direction. "It's BDSM, Hummel, not porn. Relax. You won't have to penetrate or stick your virgin tongue on anyone." 

He shudders at the thought. "So what do I do?"

"You do as I say." She points the crop at him. "And you call me Madam, or Madam Snixx when we're in this building; is that clear?" 

Frowning, he looks back down at the outfit. "That isn't a lot of information. I don't know what I'm doing, I've never done this before. And BDSM is still based off of kink and fetish, so don't pretend it can't get sexual real fast." 

Santana hums, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "A client can get pleasure from a kink or fetish, sexual or not. That's up to what they require and request personally. It isn't rooted in actual fucking or getting off. Like I said: This isn't porn." Her eyes open again. "I know you're curious and need to branch outside of your comfort bubble. You've been stuck in a rut, Hummel. Ten months and you haven't gotten much action. This is a step in the right direction for you." 

"I didn't ask for your involvement in my life, you know. Sexual or not. That's none of your business or concern." 

"I happen to think otherwise. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't help you get some education and experience to broaden your horizons." 

"I didn't realize we were so close." He deadpans, clutching the hanger a little more tightly. 

"We are now." She huffs, checking the clock. "You have five minutes to dress. You're wasting time in this chit-chatting. Strip. Now." 

Kurt still feels uneasy, but the curiosity is peaked enough that he moves behind the partition set up in the room and starts to change. This whole thing was messed up, he knew that, but he could give it one go. See how it played out. He never participated in such things before, but then again he never really let himself be vulnerable and exposed in front of anyone - not even Adam. 

This could be a good thing. It would be enlightening, he knew that much. Getting to see Santana in her apparent dominatrix facade, and how she would handle these clients. 

Not porn. There was no fucking involved. That's what she said. He wouldn't have to fuck anyone. No one was going to fuck him. Just assisting Madam Snixx. 

Shoes tied, he comes out into the room again. Leather rubbing and stretching as he moves, fixing a pair of his own fingerless gloves on his hands. 

"Well, hot damn." Santana whistles, standing. "You look hot for a change. If I wasn't such a raging lesbian, I'd fuck you myself." 

"Flattering as always, still gay myself. Your weird fantasy will just have to get over it." 

She doesn't reply, instead circling him in silence. Her riding crop moving along his shoulders and making him shiver as nerves were tickled awake. 

They didn't have the time to say much else to one another when Jason re-enters the room. Hands moving behind his back, head bowed. 

"Mr.Barnett is here for his scene, Madam." 

Kurt glances between them, feeling his stomach clench up into his ribs. Santana wouldn't expect him to do that posture with her or anyone, right? 

"Thank you, Jason." Santana says, approaching the man and placing her crop under his chin to lift his head so they make eye contact. "I trust you've shown our guest to the play room?" 

Jason's eyes are big, adoring. "Of course, Madam. Just as you requested." 

Santana gives an approving sigh, removing the crop and replacing it with her gloved hand. Running over the man's cheek, as she leans in closer. Kurt could almost swear she was going to kiss the guy. But she doesn't. She whispers something he doesn't catch, but notes Jason's face lighting up, having giddy happy feet that makes him bounce in place. 

"Thank you, Madam." He sinks to his knees, kissing her hand. "Your pet will do as you ask."

Santana turns, ponytail flipping over her shoulder as he regards Kurt once more. 

"Come." 

She steps around Jason, who remains kneeling on the cold floor. While Kurt does want to ask, he trots after her, carefully moving around Jason as he does so. 

"What was that about?" He asks in a whisper as they walk back down the tinted hall. 

"That's none of your concern. You just worry about doing as I say when we enter the room to play with Mr.Barnett. And doing it in silence."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Blaine yet, my apologies. I am a sucker for a slow burn, and maybe his appearance will be that "FINALLY" reaction I'm shooting for. But as we were robbed of more Kurtana interaction after season 5, I'm taking liberty into my own hands.


End file.
